Her Hands
by snapdrakon17
Summary: 'Knitting. For an escape artist in hiding, knitting seemed like an awfully mundane hobby to have taken on. Or so Daniel Atlas thought as he sipped from his mug, 'reading' a novel while casting glances up at the redhead seated across from him.' Daniel Atlas and Henley Reeves are home alone. Daniel can't stop thinking about what her hands can do to him. Danley two-shot. Rated T.


A/N: Hello! This is just an idea that came to me while perusing the wool and yarn area of my local Michael's craft store and exchanging sexual innuendos with a friend with mixed results. And the fact that we were discussing NYSM. Hehe. I can totally imagine Daniel being really dorky and suave at the same time while confronting Henley.

Rated T for language and sex, and I'm pretty sure this ranges near the edge of rating between T and M. It's not that sexy, but it's still sex, so little ones, refrain from reading this please! :)

The next chapter of Stolen Kisses is being written soon, so enjoy this Danley two-shot in the mean time!

* * *

Knitting. For a world renowned escape artist in hiding, knitting seemed like an awfully mundane hobby to have taken on. Or so J. Daniel Atlas thought as he sipped from his coffee mug, 'reading' a Game of Thrones novel while occasionally casting glances up at the smiling, content redhead seated across from him on the plush couch.

In the several weeks following their initiation to The Eye, the Four Horsemen led temporarily by Dylan - much to Atlas's chagrin - were settled in one of two locations that would become their homes - a cozy house for regular use when on standby, and the other a five star penthouse for when they were either doing jobs for The Eye or doing shows. All while staying seven steps ahead of the FBI and other police forces, of course. The house they were currently in was the first of the two, a large house with three bedrooms, which had immediately led to Merritt making a joke at Henley, who giggled and rolled her eyes at the lewd suggestion. Daniel had immediately shot that down with a firm glare. Which had also led to Jack and Merritt sharing a snicker at the man's ill concealed jealousy. Which, funnily enough, Henley had seemed oblivious to. But who knew what went on in that pretty little head of hers? She was too good of an escape artist to stay around long enough for you to ask her.

Daniel had been roped in to share a room with Jack due to many foreseeable fights happening if he roomed with Merritt, while Merritt and Henley luckily roomed alone. Much as the vivacious woman exasperated him, Daniel in all honesty couldn't deny the electricity every time they touched. When she'd reached out and taken his hand before they jumped onto the carousel that had led into the Eye's HQ, he'd had to suppress a shiver that bubbled up from somewhere deep in the bottom of his stomach. He'd resorted to lacing his fingers with her glove-clad ones and giving them a delicate squeeze before letting go to hop aboard the carousel, praying his knees wouldn't give out.

Even now, he thought, sipping from what was fast becoming cold coffee dregs, his eyes were drawn to the flitting paleness of her bare hands, her precious leather gloves folded neatly on the side table beside her. Given the fact that he was the only one with Henley in the house at the moment while Jack and Merritt were out grocery shopping (or just out so Daniel and Henley were alone in the house together), he appreciated the trust she had to expose the skin she so often hid. On the outside however, he was still the always calm, arrogant J. Daniel Atlas, turning a page in his novel while subtly staring at the woman he wanted back in his bed... the woman he might just love.

But damn, those hands. The hands that had again and again wowed cities and undone chains miraculously, had fooled the world's populace with her magic, and had done wonders on him in the days she'd been young and in love with him. He recalled the days when she'd still been his assistant, the nights she'd spent entwined with him, naively believing she hadn't just been another of the many women finding themselves ensnared in the amazingness that was Daniel Atlas. She'd believed in the innocence that she'd been special enough to be in love with and be loved by the great magician.  
But she too, grew in mind as well as body in the years of being a magician - well, a magician's assistant - and she'd sobered up and left him, disappearing effectively and reappearing as her own sell-out street act. Magic required great strength of mind, physicality, and spirit alike, and he admired her for leaving him, while at the same time resenting and seething over the fact that she'd just vanished without any words of farewell. At the time, all he remembered thinking was that at least he still had Rebecca as a last resort to warm his bed and light his stage.

True, he hadn't harbored any feelings for Henley back then, but meeting her again had stirred parts of his heart he didn't know existed after many nights and many women. So when he finally confronted the butterflies in his stomach, he came to the realization that he might just harbor feelings for the only woman in their group of four. God forbid if he found out Merritt had acted upon lust on her, or if he found out Jack had developed real, genuine feelings for her too. He alone deserved (in his mind) her love. Or maybe just what she could do for him, do to him. He was a red blooded male, and he had his wants and needs.

Jack had showed the same signs early on in their year of preparations together as a group whenever he looked at Henley with that moon-eyed lust of a young man. And Daniel could recall most vividly a recent happening in which he'd returned early from an outing Jack had skipped out on the group on and walked in on Jack and a beautiful brunette engaged in a compromising situation in their room. And Jesus Christ had he been jealous of what they had there. He also wouldn't deny that he'd imagined Henley and himself doing the same during long nights alone in bed while Jack wasn't in the room. Ahem.

Yet, if all he wanted from Henley was some amazing action in his bed (or on the table, on that wall over there, wherever really), Daniel wouldn't find himself admiring everything about her. From the way she woke up every morning before any of the boys had emerged from their rooms to make them all fresh coffee, or how she only wore the most crimson lipstick available anywhere to the way she refused to take off her precious gloves unless she was in a good mood and the Horsemen were alone at home. Or the way she unconsciously twisted her fingers together when she was nervous and chewed on her bottom lip before each show in the tiniest sign of nervousness. He noticed everything about her. Even the way she smelled like vanilla and strawberries. He'd go on a tangent about her on a whim at the slightest prompting. So, the most logical conclusion would be that Daniel in fact had a thing for Henley even though he refused to admit it. A major thing.

Damn, did he feel like a lovesick puppy even admitting these things to himself in the privacy of his mind. Another sip of lukewarm coffee followed this tangent. And another. And another until- the cup was empty, all that was left was the watery chocolate crust ringing the bottom of the cup. Putting his book down, Daniel went to the kitchen and refilled his mug full of steaming coffee that unanimously warmed and seared heat into his fingertips. Settling back into the seat on the couch he'd abandoned, Daniel returned to 'reading' and watching Henley's slim fingers fly on the knitting needles as the scarf Jack had asked for bloomed from green yarn.

He wished those fingers were doing something else. Namely, something that had to do with them both naked and alone in bed. And those bright eyes would sparkle mischievously as her walking fingers crept south past his navel. He promptly scalded his tongue with hot coffee as he took a large gulp that followed his sharp intake of breath as his eyes burned holes into Henley's hands.

Shit. This led to the esteemed J. Daniel Atlas letting out a sound resembling a cat coughing up a hairball and flushing a light red as he hacked out the liquid that had burned down his throat. And of course, drawn Henley's eyes to him in alarm, dropping her knitting to catch the mug that had precariously sloshed its contents over Daniel's hand and body as he shook with coughs and placing it on the side table as she rushed to get a towel to wipe down the mess.

"Danny!" Came her voice, the only thing besides embarrassment he was registering through the water blurring his vision and the numbness of his tongue. "Danny, are you okay? Can't have one of the Four Horsemen dying from asphyxiation on coffee now can we?" Her halo of red hair and the bright contrast of her green eyes twinkled at him as Daniel blinked the tears out of his watering eyes and finished hacking his lungs out.

Her fingers took a dishcloth and lightly dabbed at his coffee-covered hand, carefully placing his novel on the side table and ushering him into the kitchen. Setting him by the sink to wash off the remains of liquid on his hand, Henley moved to the side of the kitchen, standing on her tiptoes to reach one of the higher cabinets. She smiled slightly when she remembered the first time she'd done so, and Daniel had let out a derisive snort and a snarky "Are you really that short without those extravagant heels you insist on wearing all the time?" He'd paid for that with a sharp drive of her heel into his foot.

Henley pried open the cabinet she'd reached for, fingers grasping for the burn cream in the first aid kit they'd installed there after an incident involving a giant fireball and a sheepish Jack in a red checkered apron, eyebrows seared clean off, holding a blackened pan. That, or the time Merritt had insisted on making dinner, which led to everyone running in after a loud scream of profanity erupted; to find Merritt frantically trying to staunch the blood pulsing from his hand after trying to chop up a series of vegetables.

Daniel watched Henley do so, his eyes riveted to where her shirt was riding up on her hip, inch by inch of toned, pale skin revealed. He was growing an irresistible urge to grab her, slide a hand under that terribly restricting shirt, and kiss her senseless. So he resolved to do so, his footsteps silent on the cold kitchen tile, stepping carefully behind her till he was almost spooning her petite figure against the counter. Even on tiptoes, the top of Henley's head barely reached the bridge of his nose. His finger reached out almost tentatively (almost because J. Daniel Atlas absolutely did not do tentative lover) and barely brushed the exposed skin of Henley's waist.

Henley gasped at the intimate touch, the first aid kit dropping and clattering on the kitchen counter as she whirled around, hair whipping her cheeks, eyes stretched wide. She barely registered Daniel's intense eyes ground on hers before his lips descended and crashed upon hers. His lips tasted of coffee and the essence that made him her Danny. Not that he was hers, that is. Daniel was kissing her with unbridled fervour, lips rough and unforgiving against hers, tongue roving hard into her mouth.

Henley's knees wobbled dangerously for a moment as she took in the shock and sheer deliciousness that Daniel Atlas was kissing her, after the years she'd run from him. But her mind worked faster than her heart was pounding at the moment, and she remembered the heartbreak she'd endured after walking in on Daniel eating Rebecca's face off in the bed that she'd recently vacated. So she strengthened her resolve with a quick movement, her hand finding the handle of the still hot coffee pot on the burner.

Daniel gave another undignified yelp, finding himself not kissing the redhead but a scorching hot pot of coffee that had somehow found its way to his lips. Holy shit! Henley was by now a foot away, arms crossed and foot tapping on the tile with an impatient look on her face. "Fuck the burn cream, after that little act, you don't deserve my TLC, jackass." Even through the numbness of his newly burned lips and the sharpness of Henley's words, he noted with pride that her lips were swollen and pink, the result of ardent kissing. He'd done a good job. The smallest smirk alit upon his lips as he cleared his throat, sending a glare in Henley's direction as he set the coffee pot back on the burner.

"Danny, go upstairs and take a shower. You look a bit like you pissed yourself right now," Henley remarked, gesturing to the stairs. Daniel noted that coffee had spilled, rather unfortunately, across his navel, groin and inner leg. Damnit, it really did look like he'd pissed himself with coffee. He'd receive nothing but trouble from Merritt if he and Jack happened to return now. Nodding, Daniel headed for the stairs, stopping at the bottom step and turning to Henley with a mischievous look in his eye. "Care to join me?"

Henley laughed, eyes drawn to his, before darting somewhere southerly that was decidedly below waist level. "I suggest you ask me once you manage to keep all that hot blood up in your head only and not down there," She smirked and sauntered back to her knitting with what Daniel thought was more sassy swing and sex encompassed in the smooth curve of her hips than he'd seen before. Damn you, skinny jeans that hugged a really good ass. He glanced down and turned slightly redder, heading up the stairs as quickly as could be deemed dignified. He hoped a cold shower would help.

* * *

Minutes later, Daniel stood under the cold spray of the showerhead, feeling the tightness in his groin dissipate with the chill. A sigh escaped his lips in relief. But he smirked anyways. Henley had noticed the bulge in his jeans, which also meant she'd been looking down there. He turned the knob on the temperature back to hot to resume showering. Muscles that had unknowingly tensed in his back and shoulders relaxed. But as if as a sick joke, the blood drifted back down to his groin, only fueling the erection he'd had minutes before.

Groaning in frustration, Daniel rested his head and fisted hand on the beige-tan bathroom tiles, hunching his shoulders and staring at the water moisture, letting the shower water cascade into his mussed hair. What was he going to do... Besides taking Henley and slamming into her till she came in pleasure. She'd probably slam a foot into his balls and leave him writhing on the floor before she let him do as much.

Leaving the shower, Daniel pulled on boxer briefs and another pair of jeans, rifling through his dresser before finding a drab olive green t-shirt. He ran a hand through his mussed brown hair and trotted down the stairs, eyes widening infinitesimally at what Henley was wearing now. She'd changed out of her white blouse, red bandanna neckerchief and skinny jeans into a spaghetti strap baby blue tank top and terrycloth shorts that showed a hell lot of leg. Not to mention some expanse of cleavage and stomach. Not that he hadn't seen more of that before. Henley glanced up as Daniel slowly made it down the rest of the stairs, knuckles white as he squeezed the banister hard. "What? It was hot in here." Henley offered as reason before returning to her knitting, crossing her legs slowly, which kept Daniel's eyes riveted there. He swore this woman lived to torture him just by being her.

So the couple spent the rest of the hour in the living room, Henley finishing off the long scarf for Jack and Daniel attempting to read while actually staring (attempting to be inconspicuous and succeeding) at Henley's cleavage. It wasn't until five that Henley stretched with a yawn, cat-like, as she dropped the finished scarf in her lap and stood from where she'd draped herself fluidly on the couch. "I'm going to get dinner ready," She informed Daniel, who looked up from his novel cooly like he'd actually been reading the entire time.

"What are we having?" He asked. Henley's face twisted maliciously. "Italian. I'm sure you'll have a good appetite for that. Seeing as Rebecca was half Italian and you seemed to enjoy her a lot, seeing as you were eating her face off." Daniel gave a small snort. "Rebecca's not the girl I want, for various reasons. There's another I want much much more at the moment." A roguish wink was sent in the redhead's direction. Henley only rolled her eyes and turned around. She began her walk to the kitchen, then stopped, whirling around with a half serious, half impish grin on her lips. "And Danny, for your sake, please refrain from staring at my ass as if you want to ravage me on the kitchen island."

* * *

x End of Part One x

A/N: Thanks for reading, all.

If you don't mind, please drop me a review! It really helps, and for once (I don't do requests often), I'd really like at least two reviews before I post the second part of this two-shot. Thank you!


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